


Angels and Devils

by prfctdaze



Series: Bite Sized Fics [14]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7378039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prfctdaze/pseuds/prfctdaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon tells Raphael one of his fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels and Devils

**Author's Note:**

> livejournal comment_fic fill for the prompt, "Shadowhunters, Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago, Tell me your fantasy."

Simon squeezes Raphael's hand and glances over to his side of the bed. The beautiful face is fitting for Raphael's angelic name. Simon watches him sleep, peaceful and serene. He smiles and thinks back to three hours earlier.

******

Simon hates vampire night at Hardtail. 

Sexual energy flows through the club in waves. The strong scent of blood is nearly overwhelming, particularly to a fledgling.

He's been a vampire for a few months now. Can Simon still be considered a newbie? He supposes so; a baby compared to decades and centuries old vampires.

Across the room Simon spots Raphael in all his finery. A trim fitting jacket and sarcastic sneer upon that delectable mouth.

_Delectable?_

His feet feel glued to the spot where he stands when Raphael slowly makes his way through the crowd, his eyes never wavering from drinking Simon in fully. He swallows nervously and sees the glint of victory in Raphael's eyes. Nothing gets by Raphael. Every tiny movement and anxious twitch is like a neon billboard to the perceptive vampire.

"It's good to see you, Simon. I didn't think you'd come. I know how much you detest these nights."

"I don't detest these nights," Simon lies, knowing Raphael knows he's lying. "I just...it makes me a little uncomfortable."

To demonstrate the point, not on purpose, Simon loosens the collar of his shirt ( _Raphael's_ shirt) and smiles tensely.

"That color looks good on you."

The speed at which Raphael places his hands over Simon's and gently tugs on the shirt surprises him.

"Uh, yeah. I like this shirt."

Raphael leans in and whispers, "You can have it."

"Ha," Simon chuckles, practically shaking from the closeness. "Just what I always wanted-"

"What else do you want, Simon? Tell me your fantasy."

Fantasy. The word conjures up lust and decadence. And power. Being powerful and being overpowered.

Raphael's been around a long time. He's seen and done things Simon could only imagine. 

"Seriously?"

The smirk returns in full force. "Seriously," Raphael says, eyes smoldering as he licks his lips. "You've been a good little soldier since you've returned to the fold. I'll do whatever I can to make your fantasy a reality."

Thoughts swirl through Simon's head. Daring and rebellious thoughts. He thinks of the typical blindfolds and restraints and gags and leather. The image of Raphael tied up and moaning due to Simon's touch or vice versa. Or maybe free reign to raid Raphael's closet any time he wished. He figures that one wouldn't count since that particular fantasy is already a reality.

A sudden ache fills Simon's chest. He glances down quickly and then back up, a small smile pasted on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Wh...What?" Simon stammers. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I'm just not much for fantasies, I guess." His smile widens. "I'm good," he says, attempting to convince himself.

"No, no, no."

Before Simon knows what hit him, Raphael spirits him away from the crowd into a cramped back room. A ratty sofa, side table, and broken television are pretty much the room's only contents. Besides two half-dressed vampires.

"Get out," Raphael hisses and then turns his attention back to Simon. "What's going on?"

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me, Simon. I can read you like a book. What happened back there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

He is suddenly pushed back onto the sofa. The stench of stale blood and sex and Simon didn't want to think of what else is almost nauseating.

"Really, Simon? Are we going to play that game? Something happened back there. Tell me!" His eyes soften. "Please."

Simon sighs. "It's stupid."

"It's not stupid." 

Raphael begins to sit down but then changes direction. He pulls Simon to his feet.

"Talk," Raphael says without releasing Simon's hand.

"I started thinking about a fantasy and it made me kind of sad."

"Why? What is it?"

"Because that's what it is. A fantasy. It can never happen. Ever."

Raphael nudges him backward against the wall. "You'd be surprised at what I can do. Tell me."

"The sun," Simon says with a hint of bitterness. "I'd like to see the sun again. Can't help me with that, can you, Raphael?"

The immediate reaction to Simon's words makes him want to take it all back. Simon can't stand the hurt look in Raphael's eyes, the regret and pain for paving this pathway in Simon's life.

"I'm sorry," Simon says softly.

"What are you sorry for? I'm the one who should be sorry. I _am_ sorry."

Simon's chest starts to tighten and his eyes grow blurry. "I'm gonna go home."

"Wait." Raphael brushes his fingers through Simon's thick hair. A wayward strand falls forward and he massages it back in formation. "You need to feed. Come with me."

Simon stares at Raphael on the other side of the room, talking into his phone. The bar stool is hard and uncomfortable. He would much rather be sitting on a lavish sofa at Hotel Dumort. But the drink is good. It tastes...fresher. Simon shudders to think of the reason why.

"You ready? Let's go," Raphael says minutes later.

The ride home is quiet and uneasy. Simon's not sure what to say. He can't even muster his usual nervous banter to fill silences.

As he nears the front entrance, Raphael places a hand on his shoulder.

Simon's jaw drops when he walks in.

The lobby is bathed in bright light. Picture windows surround the entire perimeter of the large room, devoid of anything except lush green grass and rows of blooming yellow daffodils and dark red tulips.

He steps near one of the windows and sees tall trees and park benches, and up above blue sky, white clouds and the sun itself. It's so bright he has to squint.

"Raphael, what the hell?"

Raphael moves closer to Simon and whispers in his ear, "Do you like it?" 

"Wha...How...How'd you..."

"Oh, not me!" Raphael laughs. "I'm good but not that good. However, I have a warlock friend who owed me one. It's not real but, you know-"

"It's pretty damn close. Thank you!"

The feel of Raphael in his arms gives Simon a sense of quiet peace, something he hasn't felt in a long time. Like the world isn't topsy-turvy but just right.

******

Crisp white sheets, freshly laundered, wrap around Raphael's body like heavenly robes. All he needs are wings.

Dark eyes suddenly pop open and startle Simon. 

"What are you thinking about?" Raphael asks.

"You." 

"What about me?"

Simon tugs Raphael toward him. "I think you're an angel."

He whispers it, embarrassed, and then ducks his head into Raphael's shoulder.

"Oh, yeah?" The lilt of Raphael's voice takes on a less-than-angelic flavor. "You obviously don't know me as well as you think you do."

Simon figures an angelic entrée with a side of devilish dessert is the perfect recipe. And he intends to satisfy his hunger.


End file.
